gotta make a destination
by outruntheavalanche
Summary: [Tommy pulls his phone out of his pocket and hits Tessa's name in his contacts with shaking, clammy fingers.] Gen. Tommy Miller, Tessa Miller, w/a Ginny Baker cameo.


Spoilers for "Alfonzo Guzman-Chavez."

* * *

and i'll be movin' on  
(to where i belong)  
— "Destination," Nickel Creek

Tommy doesn't even get to say goodbye to the team—not his team anymore, not his teammates—before he's whisked off to the airport to board a flight to Chicago. The clubbies will take care of his stuff, Oscar tells him as they hustle him out of the ballpark to a waiting taxi. He doesn't even get a chance to call Tessa to tell her the news before Oscar deposits him in the back of the cab, shuts the door, and he's off.

He's never been traded before, but he's heard stories from some of the guys. Butch has been traded more than anyone, even more than Octavio Dotel who played for thirteen teams, and it doesn't phase him anymore.

"Never buy a house, that's the kiss of death," Butch told him over beers and MLB the Show a couple weeks ago. "Soon as you buy a house, your ass is gettin' shipped out."

Tommy and Tessa hadn't even gotten a chance to think about buying their own house. The three of them—soon to be four, they'd just found out Tessa was expecting but they hadn't broken the news to Jimmy yet—were still living out of boxes in a condo in Del Mar. It was a nice place—every place in Del Mar is nice—but it wasn't a home. It wasn't a place Tommy could see him and Tessa raising Jimmy and this new baby.

Tommy pulls his phone out of his pocket and hits Tessa's name in his contacts with shaking, clammy fingers.

"Tommy, what's all this about a trade?" she says before he has a chance to say hello.

"I got traded, babe." Tommy sits back and watches as palm trees and wisps of gray clouds whizz by in a blur.

There's a pause. One second, two, three. Tommy hears Jimmy's favorite cartoon show blasting in the distance, muffled but still loud. His son laughs delightedly and Tommy can't help but smile.

"Where?" Tessa finally asks.

"Chicago. The Cubs," he says, closing his eyes. The dull roar of the engine and the whoosh of air whistling in through the crack in Tommy's window lulls him into a drowsy half-slumber.

"I thought they were set with starting pitching," Tessa says. There's a catch in her voice that Tommy studiously ignores while he plucks at a loose thread in the seat cushion underneath him.

Tommy sighs. "Guess they got an offer they couldn't refuse."

"Who in their right mind could ever pass you up?" Tommy can hear the smile in Tessa's voice.

"You did," he reminds her. "Three times, if I remember right."

Tessa laughs openly now. "Lucky for me you were persistent."

"Lucky for me you had a lapse in judgement," he teases.

They fall into a quiet, contemplative, companionable silence. Tommy watches the scenery that passes by his window and tries to commit it to memory, but his brain's still firing a million miles a minute. After he finishes this call with Tessa, he's got to text Butch, Stubbs, Lawson, and Sonny… And Ginny too.

Tommy hadn't ever imagined himself becoming friends with Baker. All he saw was competition—another person after his rightful spot on the team that he'd have to outpitch to prove he belonged. He wasn't about to let her take his spot on the roster.

Tommy would be the first to admit his competitiveness got to his head, and he treated Baker like crap those first few days. Now, he honestly considers her a friend.

This sucks.

Tommy decides to just get it over with and pulls up 'Grasshopper' in his contacts.

Tommy fires off **Dont think this means Im gonna start going easy on you in the Show Baker** and adds a sunglasses smiley face, before moving on to Stubbs, then Butch and Sonny, and finally Lawson.

Once he's done texting his farewells to the rest of his teammates—ex-teammates, he reminds himself—Tommy sets his phone next to him and looks back out the window. He can see San Diego International not too far off, lined with palm trees, looking postcard-perfect. Petco Park is somewhere behind him; ahead of him Wrigley Field is waiting.

Tommy takes a deep breath and lets it whistle out between his teeth. His phone starts vibrating and Tommy snatches it up.

'Grasshopper.'

 **I'd expect nothing less. Can't believe I'm saying this but I'm gonna miss you, Tough Nuts.**

Tommy grins and pockets his phone.


End file.
